


Love is in the Air - Someone Get the Disinfectant

by rw_eaden



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean Being Dean, Fairies, First Kiss, Implied Crowley/Dean Winchester, Kinda but not really, M/M, No Smut, Sex Pollen, Sometime around season 11, but it was in the past, i don't let tropes tell me what to do, or maybe after season 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By all accounts, it should’ve been a standard hunt. Gank a gnome, go out for beers, head home, no sweat. And by all accounts, it was, until Dean’s skin starts burning, and then itching, and then it’s other really embarrassing things like building blanket forts. And, on top of all that, whatever he’s got might end up being fatal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is in the Air - Someone Get the Disinfectant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DestielSpringMiniBang

It’s like the beginning of a bad joke really; the King of Hell, a centuries-old witch, an angel, and a moose walk into a dungeon. Except no one is laughing. Instead, they all stare at Dean, who has chained himself to a chair in the middle of the Bunker’s dungeon, three layers of duct tape wrapped around his mouth. The single naked bulb over his head flickers twice, illuminating the thin sheen of sweat that coats his face.

“Dean, seriously, this has gone on long enough,” Sam says, rolling his eyes, “we’re going to let you go now, and then we’re going to fix this.”

Dean shakes his head furiously, grumbling his dissent as Sam steps forward into the Devil’s trap.

Crowley sets his hand on Sam’s shoulder, causing him to pause. “Are you sure about this Sam?” He asks.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Well, personally I say let the bastard stew in it. He obviously wants to make this hard.” Crowley smiles as Dean flinches. _Hard_ is definitely not a word he wants to hear right now.

Sam shrugs Crowley’s arm off and continues into the Devil’s trap, pulling a spare set of handcuff keys out of his pocket. “You’re being ridiculous, Dean,” he says, unlocking Dean’s wrist.

Dean claws at Sam’s arms as Sam unlocks the cuff around his other wrist. Dean shoves as Sam’s head as Sam kneels down to unlock the shackles around his ankles, but Sam just swat’s Dean’s wrists away. He kicks at Sam when one leg is freed, but stills once Cas joins the circle, laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder. He shudders, groaning past the duct tape.

“I swear to God, Dean, I’ve never met anyone who acted like such a fucking child,” Sam spits, ducking out of the way as he frees Dean’s other leg.

Dean shouts a muffled “Fuck you,” through the silver tape. He jerks up to run, but Cas pushes him back into the wooden chair, which rocks back on two legs under his weight.

Sam flicks out a pocket knife and cuts the tape next to Dean’s ear. It falls away from Dean’s mouth, having lost most of its stickiness from the sweat that’s been pouring off Dean’s face.

“Now,” Sam says, tucking the blade back into his knife, “we’re going to talk.”

***

These monsters were getting weirder by the day. It was one thing that their stupid gnome hunt had required them to spend a week in freaking Albuquerque and in the middle of April – Dean was going to find dust in his clothes for the rest of his life – but the dumbass gnome was prowling the bio-park of all places. And windy April days plus budding flowers equals one sniffly and pissy Dean Winchester. Sam had tried to shove Benadryl down his throat, but Dean outright refused. It didn’t matter that the box said it was non-drowsy, allergy meds always left him in a haze. He probably should’ve taken Sam up on the offer to sit this one out and watch some pay-per-view porn in the motel while Sam and some local hunter took out the bastard, but Dean Winchester was not about to be benched by fucking flowers of all things.

Allergies aside, it was a relatively easy hunt. Gnomes are fairy creatures, which meant that they were pretty easy to capture and kill. Or at least they should be. It was Sam’s idea to corner to gnome and open up a salt round, then gank him when he was busy counting the salt. I would’ve worked if Dean hadn’t sneezed and fumbled the salt round. The gnome then took off, and man could those little legs can move. So that’s how Dean found himself chasing after a freaking gnome in the middle of the night in the botanical garden of the weirdest city he’s ever been in. The gnome had ducked into the butterfly garden for some reason, which was fine by him because the thing only had one door.

The butterfly garden wasn’t huge but it wasn’t small either. It was mostly weathered wood and fine mesh netting, sort of like the greenhouse they had back behind the bunker in Lebanon, except much less humid. The floor was made of wooden slats, several inches off the ground, lined with similar, pale wood railing. The enclosure was nearly pitch black. Soft moonlight filtered in through the mess ceiling, but it was low in the sky, causing the various bushes and small trees to cast long, gangly shadows.

Sam came charging up to the enclosure, pulling open the first screen door and standing in the walk-in. He was huffing, hair sticking every which way on his red cheeks.

“It’s in here. Stay here and if it comes to the door, stab it,” Dean said.

Sam nodded, then dropped his hands to his knees, catching his breath.

Dean stepped onto the wood flooring, his heavy boots causing a hollow thud. Stealth was out the window. His best bet was to draw the damn gnome out and chase it back to Sam, so he ducked under the railing and put his feet in the soft earth. Some slight movement of a bush a few feet ahead of him caught his attention. His boots sank into the dirt as he moved slowly, trying not to rustle through the bushes too much. It was too damn dark to see much of anything. Maybe this was a bad idea, the gnome was only about a foot and a half tall and these stupid bushes definitely gave it the advantage. The realization that this was a bad idea was solidified when the leaves in front of him burst into a flurry of movement, and he was knocked right on his ass, right into the thorns of a rose bush. He groaned, lifting himself off the roses. He gasped when he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his lower back, where his shirt had ridden up. Gnomes are fast and they are also a lot stronger than they look.

The gnome was snarling, it’s long, broken fingernails scraping at his jeans. It looked up at him with cold gray eyes, dirt, and twigs tangled in its matted beard. Dean flailed and kicked, sending the gnome towards the entrance of the enclosure. There was the squeal of the screen door, snarling, a growl, and then a thud.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice called out.

“Yeah,” he hollered back, raising himself on his elbows. Another sharp pain shot through his back and he hissed.

Sam rushed over, extending an arm over the railing. Dean took it and Sam pulled him up.

“You alright? It didn’t bite you did it?”

“Nah, I think I’m good,” Dean said, ducking under the railing and steadying himself on the wood, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

It was three in the morning after they dragged the gnome out of the bio-park and into the Impala, found an open mesa to burn the corpse, grabbed a quick bite to eat and a showered and the hunt was finally finished. Dean didn’t even bother with jeans before he collapsed, face down on the brown comforter. He didn’t dream.

They made it back to the bunker the next day, only stopping to get lunch at a dinner when they crossed the border into Texas. That’s when the itching started. It was a just an irritated little buzzing under the skin on his lower back, but no matter what he did or how he moved there was nothing he could do to placate the itch. He fidgeted his way through all of Texas until he pulled over ten lines outside of Oklahoma and tossed Sam the keys.

“Dude, are you okay?” Sam asked, rising out of the car.

“I’m itching like a mother,” Dean said, running the nails of both hands across his back. The nails under his fingers were tinted pink when he pulled away.

“You’re bleeding,” Sam said, pointing.

“Fuck.”

“Dude, come here, let me see.”

Dean was too uncomfortable to roll his eyes, so he turned around, lifting his jacket and two layers of shirts up. Sam stooped down, his fingertips hovering an inch above Dean’s heated flesh.

“How bad is it?” Dean asked.

“It looks like something bit you,” Sam said.

“Fuck. How bad? Spider bite or potentially dangerous bite?”

Sam hummed, pressing his finger to the area. Dean hissed.

“I think it’s just a spider bite,” he said, “We’ll stop at a Walgreens and get you some Neosporin. Let me know if it gets worse, though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, dropping his shirts. He rubbed the fabric covering his back.

“And stop scratching it. You’re only making it worse.”

After a stop twenty minutes into Oklahoma and a healthy slather of Neosporin later, the itching began to fade. Dean no longer had the urge to rip his skin off, but it was still there.

***

“Dean!” Sam’s hollering woke Dean with a start and he jumped up, smacking his forehead on something hard above him.

“Fuck!” He groaned and rubbed his forehead. He lay back down, trying to adjust. The first thing he was aware of was the cool hardness underneath him, which felt nothing like his memory foam. As his eyes focused, he could make out dark wood grain above him, and a mountain of pillows at his sides.

“The hell?” He groaned.

Suddenly, fabric rustled and light poured in around him. Sam was stooped down in front of him, holding a white sheet up and over his head. “Dean?”

“Sam.”

“What the hell are you doing under the table?” Sam asked, his eyebrows arched high in his forehead.

Dean raised up on his elbows, eyes darting around. “I have no fuckin’ idea.”

“Oooookay. You wanna, come out from under the table?”

Dean grumbled and rolled over on his side, scooting out from under the table. Sam offered his hand and pulled him upwards. Dean groaned. His back was killing him, both stiff and itching all over. Sam frowned, eyeing his brother as Dean scratched his back again.

“Are you still itching?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Here, let me see.” Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and moved around him, glancing down at his back. “It doesn’t look any worse today, so that’s good.”

Sam pulled away and glanced back and forth between Dean and the table in the middle of the library. It was covered in two thin bed sheets, all the books and lamps that once stood on it piled neatly on the floor.

“Do you remember doing that?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean shook his head.

“Something weird is going on here,” Sam said.

“Thank you, captain obvious.”

Sam went on, unfazed, “Why the hell would you build a blanket fort in the middle of the library?”

Dean shrugged, both hands still scratching away at his back.

“I’m starting to think it wasn’t a spider that bit you.”

“Yeah, but none of the gnome victims did this kind of weird ass thing. They were all raving at the mouth and chewing on their family members.”

Sam pursed his lips, his brow knitted tightly. “Huh,” he smoothed his hair back over his head, “what exactly happened before you kicked the gnome?”

“I fell on my ass into a rose bush.”

Sam nodded. “Well then, I guess you know what that means.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Alright. Let’s make some coffee.”

***

Three hours into research, Dean was about to peel his skin off. The itch had spread to his whole body, setting every nerve on edge. He couldn’t get comfortable in the wooden chair, not even when he resorted to piling pillows and sheets over the hardwood. He had long since stripped off his t-shirt and sweatpants, wearing only a thin pair of boxers. He’d completely wasted the tube of Neosporin, and Sam refused to let him touch any books for fear that he’d leave greasy fingerprints all over the pages.

Sam got tired of Dean’s whimpering and squirming and sent him to the showers. Which wasn’t that bad of an idea until the water hit his bare skin. At first, it was too hot, then it was too cold. He spent a good ten minutes just fiddling with the knobs. It was like being fricken Goldie Locks. He finally resigned himself to the too cold water so that he could wash his hair and body. That was all good and fine until he found the loofah and scrubbed himself raw. He got out of the shower with scratches all over his body.

He spent the rest of the day in abject misery while Sam thumbed through books and found nothing.

***

Dean went to bed in his bed and woke up under the table, his skin still on fine. He crawled out from under the table, and immediately retreated back under the table. The lights in the bunker were too strong, setting off a throbbing behind his eyes. It was much nicer under the table.

“Dean? Are you under the table again?” Sam called, his bare feet slapping against the tiled floor.

“Yeah,” Dean grumbled.

Sam padded over, pulling the sheet up and over the table. Dean winced and rolled away from the light. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Light hurts.”

Sam dropped the sheet and the light disappeared. “Dean, I think we should call Cas.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Sam stepped out of the room and Dean was left alone under the table. It didn’t take more than ten minutes before the sound of Sam’s footsteps sounded again, this time, accompanied by the soft patter of Cas’s dress shoes. It was Cas this time who pulled the sheet up over the table, and Dean turned to face him.

“Dean, how are you feeling?” Cas was frowning, his blue eyes soft as he held Dean’s gaze.

“Like hell,” he grumbled.

“Dean, can I see?”

Dean rolled over on his side, exposing his back to Cas. Cas’s warm palm hovered over Dean’s skin, a single slender finger pressed against his lower back. A small wave of relief flooded through him, and he whimpered, pressing back against Cas’s hand. The angel didn’t flinch or pull away, instead letting out a soft hum. His body was cool at their single point of contact, and he no longer itched there. Then, all too soon, the angel withdrew and the angry tingling resumed.

Dean groaned and rolled over on his back to find Cas gone.

“It’s a venom.” Cas’s thick, whiskey voice bellowed from above the table, the silhouette of his legs visible through the sheet.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed.

“What kind of venom?” Sam asked.

“I can’t be certain. Some type of fairy creature perhaps, but it’s definitely not a spider.”

“Well that’s just fucking great,” Dean grumbled.

“Well, at least now we know what we’re looking for,” Sam said, “I’ll go storm the fairy section. Cas, would you mind sticking with Dean?”

“Of course.”

Sam’s feet sounded his exit from the room.

“Dean.”

Dean rolled on his side to face Cas’s voice, finding the silhouette of Cas’s stooped form through the sheet. “Yeah, Cas?”

“Are you alright?”

“No, not really,” Dean said, “I’m itching like a motherfucker and everything hurts. Do you think you could do something?”

Cas’s fingers slid the sheet up and over his shoulders, leaving a small sliver of light to trail in by his feet. “I can’t cure you. It’s a magic I don’t have power over.”

“But can you do something? Take away the symptoms or something?”

Cas frowned and pressed his hand against Dean’s bare shoulder. A cool rush flooded through Dean’s arm from where Cas’s palm touched him. He sighed. “God, thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“I don’t even care. It just feels a hell of a lot better.” Dean scooted closer to Cas and put his hand on Cas’s coaxing him to move it up and down his arm. Cas complied and for the first time in two days, Dean began to relax.

Cas prodded Dean to roll over on his back and Dean complied. Cas then scooted closer until he was nearly hovering over Dean’s body. He rubbed his hands up Dean’s arms and shoulders, then down over the planes of Dean’s back. Dean nearly moaned when Cas’s hands trailed down to his lower back. A cool pulse echoed through Dean’s skin and deep into his bones.

 “Dude, can I get a little help?” Sam’s called out in a strained shout.

Suddenly, Cas pulled his hands away and the painful ache was back with a vengeance. Dean whined. He was gone from Dean’s side, leaving the flapping sheet in his place.

Cas and Sam spoke in a hushed whisper that Dean couldn’t quite make out. Then, just as suddenly as Cas had disappeared, he was back, running his hands over Dean’s skin once again. Over time, Dean found himself fading in and out of consciousness. He was faintly aware of the deep rumble coming out of his throat, something between a moan and a freaking purr. That was a little surprising, but Dean couldn’t be bothered to really care, he felt too good. It wasn’t just that Cas was taking away the itch and the ache, it was that it felt even better than he did when he didn’t have to deal with freaking fairy venom coursing through his veins. Dean fell into an easy sleep as long as Cas was stroking him. The only problem with any of it was that he was beginning to grow aware of the arousal pulling deep inside him, but he’d worry about that later.

***

Dean awoke screaming. The burn was back and much worse, like a thousand red-hot needles spearing every inch of his body. The sound of running feet echoed down the halls and closer to the library. The sheet fluttered open around him and Cas’s hands were on him again, soft soothing nonsense coming out of his mouth. Dean fell asleep once again.

***

The next time Dean awoke, Cas was sitting cross-legged under the table, stroking his back.

“How are you feeling, Dean?” He asked softly.

“I feel okay,” Dean said, “how long was I out?”

“Since you woke up screaming? About a day and a half.”

“Jesus.”

“Sam and I have found something that may help you, but we have reached an impasse.”

Dean pulled himself up to rest on his elbows, immediately regretting the pressure it put on his groin. He was much harder than his average morning wood, and pressing flat against the cold floor was not helping anything. He lowered himself back down. He looked over his shoulder to face Cas as he spoke.

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“Well, we believe you may have been bitten by a doxy, due to the itching and pain. However, that doesn’t fully account for the need to burrow or craving for touch you seem to be exhibiting. That means that it could be a new species of fairy all together, or perhaps the fairy that bit you had entered into its mating cycle. We won’t know for sure until one of us can catch the fairy that bit you and compare teeth and bite marks,”

“Wait a second, did you just say mating cycle?”

“Yes. It would explain the need to burrow and the reaction you seem to have to my touch. If I am correct you should be experiencing physical arousal soon.”

“Way ahead of you, Cas,” Dean grumbled, pressing his head against the floor. “It’s not gonna be as bad as the itching, is it?”

Cas shifted beside him. His knees bumped against Dean’s sides.

“Cas, come on. Tell me the truth here.”

“I believe that is likely.”

Dean groaned, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck my life.”

“There are other things that you should probably be aware of,” Cas said, his hands stilling on Dean’s spine.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“When doxies enter their mating cycles it usually lasts about a month. Females build underground nests, which is probably what you disturbed when she bit you. Their body temperatures raise quite a few degrees and the desire to mate is nearly insatiable, placating only when they become pregnant or their mating cycle ends. Also, doxy venom is almost always fatal to humans.”

“Awesome,” Dean rolled his eyes. “So how are you and Sam gonna go catch the little fucker?”

“Well, that’s where we reached an impasse. Sam cannot see all fairy creatures, unlike you. He can only see creatures that stick to a humanoid form. I, on the other hand, can. Our disagreement was about how exactly we were going to catch it. I cannot leave your side when you are in such a state.”

“Sure you could. Leave Sam with babysitting duty,” Dean growled. He didn’t entirely mean to, but he was not in the mood to even attempt to be pleasant. He was miserably hard and it would take long before he would start leaking in his boxers. The itch had subsided, but that might’ve been because Cas’s hands were still on him, but there was still a dull ache deep in his muscles. It was worse than the countless times he’d been thrown against walls over the last few years, worse than all the times he’d been beaten to a bloody pulp; it was as if his bones themselves were bruised.

“We tried that. Sam set his hand on you and you started wailing. It was – very disconcerting,” Cas said.

“Well, that’s just wonderful.”

Cas hummed sympathetically, his fingers twitching against Dean’s spine. “At this juncture, Sam and I haven’t come to a solution. I suggest that we use Crowley and Rowena but Sam doesn’t seem to think it’s a good idea.”

“Those assholes aren’t going to help me. Crowley hates our guts and Rowena’s tried to kill both you and me at least once,” Dean said.

“Crowley has a certain… _fondness_ for you. He wouldn’t necessarily want to see you die. And, if he refuses, I’ll kill him.” Cas’s voice was much sharper and he practically spit the words. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said that Cas sounded a little jealous. It wasn’t his fault he and Crowley had _bonded_ or whatever when he was a demon. Okay, maybe it was, but it wasn’t like he was trying to hurt anyone. He was a demon at the time, he didn’t care about the consequences of all the things he and Crowley had done. And yeah, maybe some of those consequences were that Crowley made a few more innuendos in mixed company and acted like a bitter ex, but in some ways perhaps it was a little better. He hadn’t tried to kill him or Sam or Cas recently, so maybe he would be willing to help.

“Alright. We need Crowley, but why Rowena?”

“The anti-venom requires powerful magic. It makes sense utilize her.”

“Alright. If we have to,” Dean grumbled.

***

A few hours later, Rowena, Cas, Crowley, and Sam were hovering in the hallway, talking back and forth. Rowena had mixed up some kind of potion, which finally took away the worst of the itch, but didn’t fix it altogether. His skin throbbed, his bones ached, and the frustrating hardness between his legs wasn’t going away. He should probably do something about that before he permanently damaged something or something like that, but there was no way in hell he was going to even attempt it in the middle of the library, not with so many people wandering around. He also really needed to pee and he should probably take a shower as well. From what Cas had said, he had been out for at least two days, so that was at least two days worth of sweat and grime he needed to scrub off. It would also give him a chance to deal with his erection.

Dean rolled himself out from under the table and rose himself up on shaky arms. As he limped forward into the hallway, the voices ceased. All eyes were on him as he pushed past, Cas and Sam eyeing him with pity and concern and Crowley and Rowena with some kind of sick interest. He felt their gaze until he made it into the bathroom.

Dean stripped off his boxers and stood under the water. It was still too hot or too cold, but he didn’t bother with the knobs this time. Instead, he gave himself a quick scrub down and let his hand settle on his dick. He felt completely drained. He didn’t even bother with a fantasy this time; it didn’t matter, he was already hard. He went to work on himself, the same quick jerks he’d had to utilize countless times when quality wasn’t an issue. This time, however, it wasn’t working. There was no pleasure to it, and by the time the water ran ice cold he wasn’t any softer than when he started. Dean groaned, repressing a sob as he shut the water off and smacked his head against the wet tile wall. Fuck his life.

Dean dried off quickly and wrapped his damp towel around his waist. The towel irritated his skin but it was better than nothing and there was no way he was going to put dirty boxers back on. He wandered back into the hallway, following the sound of hushed voices.

“There’s no way Dean would go for that,” Sam said.

“It’s not like we have a lot of options here,” Rowena said.

“He’s not gonna do it. He’d rather be miserable,” Sam said.

“Oh! Well, you sure know how to raise a girl’s confidence Samuel. I’m quite ravishing for my age. You can’t honestly say that I’m anything but,” Rowena said.

“Please, mother, shut it before I hurl,” Crowley said.

“Dean,” Cas said, looking up at where Dean was standing in the middle of the hallway, “how are you feeling?”

Dean adjusted the towel higher on his hips. “Same.”

Both Sam and Cas frowned. Crowley glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Dean up and down.

“What are you guys talking about?” Dean asked. The four people in front of him looked any which way but at him.

Sam was the first to speak. “We’re working on the cure for your bite. Crowley will be able to catch the fairy tonight.”

“So what’s this about me not going for something?” Dean asked. His head felt fuzzy and he was starting to get dizzy.

No one said anything.

“Come on guys,” Dean huffed.

“Well, Cas informed us that if it was a fairy in the middle of her mating cycle, there may be some…other symptoms that you have to deal with,” Sam said quietly. He ducked his head to his chin, clearing his throat as he finished.

Dean wavered, wobbling forward. Sweat was starting to bubble up on his upper lip and the base of his neck. Great, just another things to worry about.

“Yeah, I kinda got that,” Dean said.

“He also said that, uh, these symptoms had the potential to run your body down faster. Dehydration is a very real risk at this point, and with the venom in your blood, it could kill you faster than we anticipated.”

“How fast are we talking?”

“By tomorrow morning.”

“Well then, I guess you guys better get on it then,” Dean said, sighing. He moved past Crowley, but Sam stayed firmly in his path.

“Cas also said that if you were…if you were able to, ya know, couple with someone it might trick your body into ceasing the circulation of the mating hormones in your blood.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Dean said, “I’m not dragging my ass out in public to find some random chick to hook up with. Especially not when I look like this,” he gestured to himself. He hadn’t looked in the mirror when he was in the bathroom, but if he looked anything like the way he felt he was sure he’d look like death and crap had a baby.

“Well, I could always help,” Rowena said. She set her dainty fingers to Dean’s arm, and instantly a sharp sting flooded through his body. He jerked away hissing and stumbled backward into Cas.

“Gross,” Dean barked, leaning into Cas.

Everyone was silent for a few beats, their eyes darting back and forth between Dean and each other.

“Did that hurt when Rowena touched you?” Sam asked.

“No, I just hiss at people because I want to.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“And it hurt when I touched you the other day?” Sam asked again.

“Yeah, it hurts when people touch me. What’s the point, Sam?”

Sam nodded his head in the direction of Dean’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, his lips pulled into a tight thin line. Dean glanced over to see Cas standing there, his hand cupped firmly around Dean’s bicep.

“What?” Dean balked.

“Bloody hallelujah,” Crowley shouted, throwing his head towards the ceiling, “it’s about damn time we finally have a solution to all the unresolved sexual tension.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked, shrugging Cas’s hand off.

“I think Crowley is suggesting that you and I…since you don’t seem to be adverse to my touch,” Cas said, his voice small and head hung low. He glanced at Dean once, then turned his gaze back to the floor.

“I wasn’t suggesting, I was rejoicing,” Crowley said.

Dean could feel the flush rising in his cheeks, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was the fever or the venom. “Ha-ha, fuck you, no,” he sniped pushing past Sam. His heart thundered against his rib cage as he scampered off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Dean sunk to the floor, resting against the hard wood of the door. He tried to calm himself down, but he couldn’t help the surge of pain and fear and embarrassment that welled up inside him and caught in his throat. He wanted so desperately to crawl out of his own skin, to cuddle up in something soft and warm and just sob. He knew it was the venom, but that didn’t exactly help matters. He was miserable and probably going to die soon; so what else was new.

The thing that made it worse, however, was that there was a possible solution to at least part of the problem just standing there in the middle of the hallway. And it wasn’t like he was completely adverse to it either. He’d been attracted to Cas since the beginning, there was no denying that. The mushy feelings, though, those developed later, and even though he didn’t want to admit it out loud, he’d admitted it to himself; he loved Cas. And that was a problem in and of itself. He’d lost Cas more times than he could count, either to death or absence, and it would be just his luck that the second he told Cas how he felt something would drag them apart again, and this time it would be permanent. He’d already lost his parents, most of his friends, and any woman he tried to have a romantic relationship with in the past, so it was just a given that he’d lose Cas, too.

And, on top of all that, he wasn’t about to let some fairy bullshit force his hand. He didn’t allow himself to be forced into the war between Michael and Lucifer, he didn’t allow himself to give into the Mark, and wasn’t about to allow fairy venom to make him make a move. It was just the principle of the thing.

***

“Dean?” Cas’s voice called to him from the other side of the wooden door.

“Yeah, Cas?” His voice was wrecked, perhaps from the exhausting slowly spreading through his muscles or perhaps it was the fact that he had been crying.

“Crowley has gone out to find the fairy and Rowena and Sam are in the supply room working on the spell,” then he added after a beat, “do you…can I come in?” His voice was soft and low like he was talking to a spooked horse.

“I, uh…” There was nothing he wanted more than for Cas to open that door. Since he had stormed away his body had grown more restless. The erection he was sporting still hadn’t gone away and now, every time he closed his eyes for more than a few seconds he could see Cas’s face, blue eyes with lust-blown pupils and pink lips parted and slick with spit. Cas’s voice didn’t help matters either. The angel always sounded like he’d just been fucked into the mattress, and now just the sound of it made his dick twitch. He mentally shook himself. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

“I understand.”

No, really, he probably didn’t. It was a sad stupid reality that Cas was probably used to being rejected by Dean at this point. This was just another instance of something stupid pushing them away from each other. But did it really have to be?

“Hey, Cas?” Dean started.

“Yes?”

“I’m not – I’m not mad or anything like that, just so you know. It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault really, I just,” Dean sighed, and took a deep breath, “I’m just not going to let supernatural bullshit tell me what to do. Not when I have a choice.”

“I understand, Dean. You value your free will.”

“Yeah. That’s it. It’s not you, just so you know.”

Cas was quiet on the other side of the door, Dean’s own harsh breathing the only sound.

“Cas?”

“What are you saying, Dean?”

“I’m sayin’, I guess if I wasn’t life or death or whatever, it wouldn’t be a big deal if we…ya’know? I mean, it would be a big deal but not a bad big deal. If that makes any sense.”

The door knob above his head turned and the door clicked. Dean found himself beings scooted across the floor as the door opened. Cas was standing above him, glowering.

“You’re a moron,” Cas said flatly.

Dean opened his mouth to speak but Cas cut him off. “You’d rather risk your life than be with me and then you tell me that it’s not because of me? If it’s not me that what is it? Because this doesn’t make any sense. You’re not the kind of man to just lay down and die yet here you are resigning yourself to death because of what?”

“No, Cas, it’s not you. I know that’s how it looks but it’s not. I’m not gonna let some stupid force I can’t control be the catalyst for us getting together.”

“And why not? We’ve had a lot of stupid forces neither of us could dictate our interactions over the years. As I recall, it was the very reason we met in the first place. You don’t have to pity me, Dean. I can handle rejection. I’m centuries older than you. I’m a warrior, not some precious little snowflake that you need to coddle and protect! If you don’t want me all you have to do is say it. Don’t try to spare me by continuing to lead me on!” His fists were balled into fists at his sides. Dean could’ve sworn that the air was tingling with electricity the way it always did right before Cas smote something.

Dean rose to his feet, grasping the towel with one hand. “It feels cheap, okay? I don’t want us to be together just because it’s convenient. And what happens afterward? What would we be? I can’t have anything normal and you know that. I couldn’t bare it if…” Dean took a shaky breath.

Cas was hovering in his space now, just inches away. Cas set his hand down on Dean’s shoulder, the same shoulder he’d left his mark on all those years ago. There was such a softness in his eyes, even if Dean could tell he was still angry. “I’m not going anywhere,” Cas said.

It would’ve been so easy to close the gap between them, to press their lips together. Every inch of his body was screaming for it. Dean closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. He leaned closer, relishing the warmth radiating off Cas. Dean whimpered, and Cas let his hand fall down Dean’s arm, fingers trailing the curves of his muscles. He flicked his tongue out between his lips, and Dean was enraptured by it. He so badly wanted to taste those lips, to feel that tongue slide across his lips, his neck, his chest. Cas leaned in, and just as he was about to press his lips to Deans, Dean did the only thing that made sense at the time; he bolted.

***

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean?” Sam asks.

Dean fidgets, with the towel laying across his waist, plucking at a stray string. He shrugs and Sam scoffs. No one says anything for a while, they just stare at Dean.

“Could you tell the ass clowns to beat it?” Dean asks, almost shyly.

“Crowley, Rowena, out,” Sam barks.

Rowena squawks and begins to speak but Sam glares at her. If looks could kill she’d be dead before she hit the floor. She rolls her eyes and trills, “Come along, Fergus,” before sauntering out of the dungeon, Crowley following behind. He shoots Dean one last amused look before he exits.

“I don’t get it, Dean,” Sam says, shaking his head.

“Sam, he’s clearly not in his right mind right now,” Cas offers.

“Yeah, that’s obvious.” Sam shakes his head, “I’ll be right back. Maybe once we get the anti-venom in him things will start making more sense.”

Sam leaves and Dean is alone with Cas once again.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, staring at his lap. Cas’s hand is still on his shoulder.

Cas doesn’t say anything. Sam returns to the room carrying a jar of pale green liquid. He holds it as he tells Dean to drink. It’s putrid, like rotting fish and toothpaste, but he drinks it anyway and resists the urge to barf. Sam tips the jar a little more forcefully than necessary and some of the concoction dribbles down Dean’s face and into his nose. He huffs and gags when it’s finished but he still keeps it down. Then he passes out.

***

Dean wakes up in his bed, this time, all his sheets and pillows back where they’re supposed to be. Other than the post-sleep haziness, Dean feels fine. He breathes out a sigh of relief and runs his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. Movement at the corner of the room catches his eye and he glances over at the figure bathed in shadow.

“How are you feeling?” It’s Cas.

“Better,” Dean says.

“No pain?”

“Nope, no more than usual,” Dean says, sitting up in bed.

“Good, I’ll go tell Sam,” Cas says. He stands and crosses half the room before Dean stops him.

“Cas, wait.” Cas stills, glancing at Dean. His eyes are cold and his face betrays no emotion, but Dean knew by the way his shoulders stiffen that he is upset.

“Cas, we need to talk,” Dean says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and patting the open spot next to him. Cas hesitates, glancing towards the open door, but after a few tense seconds his shoulders drop and he sits on the bed beside Dean.

“Dean…”

“No, hang on, I’ve got some stuff I need to say.” Dean takes a breath and angles his body so that he’s facing Cas. “What I did back there, that wasn’t okay. I shouldn’t’ve freaked out on you like that, but I did and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand why you have to be so stubborn all the time. You could’ve died, Dean. You were suffering and we had a way to ease your pain but you refused to take it.”

“There’s no excuse for it,” Dean says. And there isn’t. Looking back on it now it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. He loves Cas. He wants Cas. It would’ve been a golden opportunity to make that clear to him, too. But he couldn’t let himself do it.

“Why do you do these things to yourself, Dean?” Cas asks.

That’s the question isn’t it? Why did he hide? Sure, he could say that it was free will and all that, but let’s be honest, if a witch cursed him and the only cure was to drink fine liquor and spend all his money in Vegas he wouldn’t refuse just out of principle. Something like that is practically a gift. But was different with the fairy venom. Sure, he’d had a choice but it meant he was miserable the whole time when he could’ve been getting off. But it wouldn’t be just getting off, would it?

“I’m afraid.” Dean’s voice catches in his throat.

‘What are you afraid of?” Cas asks. His fingers brush against Deans and Dean allows their fingers to hook together loosely.

“This,” Dean says, nodding to the space between them there their hand's touch. “Fucking it up. Or worse, getting it right.”

“I don’t understand.” Cas begins rubbing his thumb against Dean’s knuckles. It’s a small gesture, but it soothes Dean’s jittering nerves.

“Cas, once we cross that line, there’s no going back. And I couldn’t bare it if we did and then it ended. I’ve lost almost everyone. The only people I’ve still got are you and Sammy, and if I lose you again, especially if we…it’d tear me apart, Cas. I can’t lose you. Not again.”

Cas reaches up to stroke his cheek bone. His fingers are soft and strong. “I told you the other day; I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean dips his head, leaning into Cas’s touch. “How can you be sure? With the lives we live, how can you know that?”

“I don’t,” Cas admits, “but I know, given the choice, I’d follow you anywhere.”

Dean licks his lips and lets out a sigh. “Cas…”

“Free will means choice, regardless of whatever unseen consequences. Please, Dean, let me chose you.”

“Okay,” Dean whispers.

Cas’s lips are on his. He tastes like coffee and freshly fallen snow. They remain this way, their lips, and the occasional tongue sliding against each other’s slow and sweet for what feels like hours, communicating a silent promise until Dean pulls away to breathe.

“Okay,” Dean says, more sure this time.

“Okay,” Cas smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> So there's no smut in this puppy. Sorry about that. If you want some let me know and I'll do a timestamp.  
> Also, thank you for reading. Your comments and kudos always make my day. If you wanna come chat with me, I'm @rosemoonweaver on Tumblr.


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